


Little do you Know

by Princessstupidmf



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: (ish?), AU, Angst, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flowers, Fluff, M/M, Ryan is a sad babu, Sad, Sickness, Tumblr Prompt, cancer references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 16:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4968409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princessstupidmf/pseuds/Princessstupidmf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of Awful AU #196 on Awful-aus.tumblr.com “Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the “girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft” and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard” AU, basically just a sadder and cuter version.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little do you Know

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this hit me so close to home in so many ways, my grandma died of cancer just last year and a lot of the story tidbits from Ryan reflect my experiences (except for the fighting part, i love my grandma so much) and at points i had to stop writing this to calm down. I could not really proofread this, so I'm sorry but there should only be minor mistakes.

Michael placed the baseball cap over top his unruly curls, making sure that it fit snugly before he made quick work of the latch on his door. It was a sunny, warm summer day and he was determined not to have the top of his head burnt again. Other than that, it was the perfect day to get some work done in his garden, as he had let it become overgrown with all of the recent rainfall that had swept across most of the nation. On his way out he made sure to grab to leather bag, a gift from his best friend Lindsay to hold all of his gardening tools. He of course made very good use of it as he loved to garden. He had always had problems with his anger and it was a good way to settle his mind and keep any frustration from life at bay.

He set his tools down in front of one particularly large black lace bush. It had become thick and healthy, much to Michael’s pleasure, but so have the dandelions and thistles that had taken up home underneath it. He regarded them with disdain, the thistles were easy enough to pull out once you got around the little thorns, but the dandelions were a downright pain in the ass.  He pulled on his thick gardening gloves which reached nearly to his elbows for when he would work in his rose bushes. He easily grasped one of the thistles then and gave it a sharp tug and then throwing it into a pile behind him. He continues like this for a while, working his way deeper into the bushes and humming quietly to himself.

\-------------------------------

Ryan Haywood woke up slowly that late Saturday morning. Last night had been a bad one, and he had not been able to fall asleep until at least 3:30. However, he made quick work of washing up and eating before he was out of the house and walking down the sidewalk, noting how hot it was outside. He had not been paying mind to the weather as of late so it was quite a pleasant surprise to say the least. He allowed himself a quick smile. The walk was not a long one so he did not make any attempt to rush, besides he had no other standing priorities for the day.

He stopped suddenly, looking at the house in front of him. It was homely and small, with a well-tended garden in the front many different types of lilies grew up and over the fence hanging out over the side walk and there were several different bushes in bloom. The scent from massive roses wafted through the air delicately, somehow managing to overpower the heavier smell of some large, flowering vine he did not know the name of. He looked over the garden, and when he saw no one he reached out to pick a few of the lilies, before moving on to pick the ones that he did not know the name of.

\--------------------------------

Michael was just finishing under his black lace bush when he heard a rustling right above him. He paused and looked up, and when he did not see any animals he frowned. The rustling continued for a few moments before he heard the sharp snap of a stem breaking. Now he was scowling. He knew what it was, and it was someone picking his flowers. He stood up quickly to address the person when he stopped.

The man in front of him was tall, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. He had a wide build as well and he looked completely shocked. Michael on the other hand was confused, as well as slightly amused, he expected some teenage girl or old lady or maybe a little kid, but not this man. What use could he have for Michael’s flowers? They stared at each other for a moment, the taller man looking almost scared that he had been caught. Michael however smirked.

“For some girl, huh?”

Ryan stuttered and as much he wanted to say no, it was close enough to the truth for him so he just nodded. He watched the curly haired man grin and laugh, shaking his head at some internal thought of his own.  He did not know what to expect as a reaction from this stranger, if he would be angry or upset that Ryan was taking the flowers from his garden and make him leave them with him. The man was shorter than him, with curly hair and large brown eyes. Ryan found himself smiling softly.

“Well, that’s really sweet and all, but don’t guys typically _buy_ flowers for their romantic interests?”

Embarrassment flooded over the blond again and he looked away, abashed, “Well the flowers in your garden are . . . prettier?”

He knew it sounded stupid, but the other man seemed pleased by the words, blushing and grinning widely, “Thanks! I work really hard to keep my garden healthy and happy!”

Michael internally scolded himself. He sounded like such a fucking idiot, talking about flowers as if he weren’t a grown man. If he noticed though, the flower thief did not even take any notice. Instead, he just watched Michael with a soft smile. He could not help but smile back as well, and he noticed the way that the heat in his cheeks did not subside. They did not say anything for a few moments before the other man seemed to shake himself from his stupor, he seemed flustered as he held out his hand, palm upward, “Sorry, I did not introduce myself properly. I’m Ryan . . . um Ryan Haywood.”

“Michael”, he answered. Ryan was not looking directly at Michael but he could hear the smile in his voice, “Michael Jones.”

“Nice to meet you”, He pulled his hand back and took on a reproachful air, “I suppose you want these back or some money huh?”

He held the flowers out towards Michael, who laughed and shook his head.

 “I tell you what Mr. Haywood”, He said the name jokingly, “I will let you keep those flowers, and forgive you for all of the other times you raided my garden, if you take me to see your lady friend. If you’re risking getting in trouble for this girl, she must be amazing!”

Ryan stopped, absorbing Michael’s words, smiled kind of sadly, “She is . . . but I’m not sure you’d want to meet her.”

Michael didn’t seem to notice Ryan’s change in demeanor. He became incredulous, putting his hands on his hips, “You picked my beautiful flowers! The least you can do it let me meet her. Hell, I’m not even asking you to bring her back here. I won’t spill the secret about your thieving habits either.”

The older man took in Michael’s amused grin along with the stubborn set of his body and sighed to himself, “Sure, you win! I’ll take you to see her.”

As he led Michael along, he didn’t say anything besides mundane small talk, such as questions about the weather or his garden. As they traveled, his nerves began to disappear and he found himself relaxing into the company. He had several friends sure, but they were quite rowdy and Ryan really just preferred to relax most of the time. Jack and Geoff, however, where always trying to convince him to go out on the town with them on Saturday nights, but he would decline most of the time. He usually just wanted to stay home and read or work on his tech. He’d like to think that he was pretty calm and settled, even if he flitted from relationship to relationship and he was always slightly on edge. Michael, on the other hand, seemed relaxed and calm most of the time, that was until a kid hit him with a rock, then he went into a short burst of explosive rage. It was strange to Ryan as he seemed perfectly normal again after just five minutes. He was not sure if it was a healthy trait, but it seemed to work for the younger man. Ryan thought maybe, he found a new friend.

Michael felt something was wrong as they walked down to the end of his street, not turning off onto any of the other roads. Ryan became quieter as they neared the wrought iron gate and fencing that marked the dead end of this particular street. He did not say anything though, and he kept his mood light as they walked to keep the growing tension at bay. He did not say anymore, when Ryan walked through the gate with not so much as a word and began to lead him down the tree covered paths. The place was very beautiful and peaceful, and he felt like such an idiot for not making the connection sooner. He did not voice any of this though as Ryan stopped in front of a particular stone, with the name _Brianna S. Haywood, June 1975-November 2012._

Michael could not find a single word as he watched Ryan kneel down to place the flowers on the base of the headstone. He watched as the older man closed his eyes for a few moment, not saying a thing. A warm breeze picked up enough that the rustling of leaves broke the dead silence. The sun beat down on both of them and Michael was forced to close his eyes against the light, momentarily enjoying the warmth. That combined with the stirring wind washed a sense of melancholy over him. It was beautiful out, and oddly enough it fit the mood of the moment. When Michael looked down again, even though he swore he could see a slight tremor in his hands, Ryan was smiling softly up at him. Michael would have said that the other’s eyes appeared to be glassy if he had known the man better than he did.

Ryan turned his head back down again, too quickly for Michael to really get a decent look at his face, but when he spoke his words were steady, if not strained, “She was my best friend.”

Michael could not respond to that.

“My parents were devastated that we lost her before they were gone themselves. My mother locked herself away for months. I guess . . . she was tired of acting so cheery for her after we found out that it was terminal. She got so thin.”

He paused for a second, taking in a deep, shuddering breath, “I would stay up with her through the nights often times, when the medicine did nothing for her pain.”

He was now resting fully on his knees and his fingers dug into the dirt and were tangled in the grass, “We used to fight . . . so much, and I never wanted to see her. When I found out she was sick though . . . I had never realized ̶ ”

He broke his words abruptly to take in more air and now Michael found himself kneeling right next to Ryan. He was silent as he took the other man’s hand and squeezed it gently. They stayed there, not exchanging any words, but Michael kept up a soft continual motion of rubbing his thumb over the back of Ryan’s hand. He looked out over the rest of the cemetery. There was a funeral a ways off, but it was noticeable with the small purple flags hanging from the lineup of cars and the sparse group of people in black. Either it had been a small procession to start, or now only the immediate family remained to say their private goodbyes. He wondered if Brianna’s funeral was large.

“There’s a point you reach, and, god, does it make you feel awful, when you’re so glad when they finally pass away. Y-you’ve seen them in so much pain and all of the struggles they face, and you’re just so happy for them. I didn’t cry at her funeral  . . .” He paused to laugh, somewhat bitterly, “what kind of brother am I? All I could think of was, how much better off she is, and how happy she would be if there were actually a heaven of some kind.”

Michael looked over at Ryan again, studying him. He decided not to say anything about the fresh tear tracks.

“They gave her two months, but she was so stubborn . . . she was in so much pain for six. She only had morphine for two days before she passed. It must have been awful.”

He was almost positive that Ryan had not talked to anyone about this before, but he was more than happy to let this near stranger pour his heart out.

“She was so amazing, and so strong. The day before, she seemed as though she were on the rise, like she was getting better. She was so lively. None of us never expected . . .”

He now had his other hand running through fine blonde hair, making soft shushing sounds as the man leaned on his shoulder and just cried against him. He still did not comment though, letting Ryan vent everything out as incoherent sobbing. Even though he had yet to experience a loss like that, he had enough empathy to understand the kind of pain Ryan would be in, even after nearly three years. He fixed his gaze on the small bouquet that Ryan had picked from his garden. Lilies and clematis with a few petals scattered around when the flowers had become slightly battered. It was sad that they would die in a few days. He did not mind though. He was sure Ryan’s sister would appreciate them.

\---------------------

A few weeks had passed since Ryan had taken his walk to see his sister and consequently met Michael Jones. He had not seen the man again, and had barely contacted him beyond a few text messages. They had traded numbers while Ryan was still wiping away stray tears, and they parted ways soon after that. It was another Saturday, early this time though, with a few clouds spread randomly through the sky. He was taking another walk to visit his sister, enjoying the slight morning chill as he did so. He was delighted, about a day after his encounter with Michael, that he felt as though he had a lighter heart than ever in the past few years. He had never talked about his past like to another person before, but he felt as though he should have done it so much sooner.

When he passed Michael’s house, he was disappointed to see the lights out and no curly head roaming the front garden. He figured that it wasn’t likely that he would see his newfound friend again anytime soon. That did not stop him from being disappointed though. He did not stop, but continued on until he reached the cemetery. He had walked the path so many times that he allowed himself to drift off into thought and did not even notice the figure crouched over his sister’s headstone.

“Oh! H-hey Ryan! I was not expecting you to be out here this early.”

The older man stopped in his tracks and looked up to see Michael standing in front of his sister’s grave with an abashed look on his face. Ryan raised an eyebrow at him, “What are you doing here?”

He was not trying to sound malicious and Michael did not seem to take as such. Instead, he did not say a word as he stepped out of the way for Ryan to see.

It was not very big, or very ornate by any means of the word. But it was cute and beautiful at the same time, and extremely, _extremely_ thoughtful. By the small headstone, Michael had placed a medium sized terra cotta pot, and inside of it was a small, low growing lily and then a young clematis that had a small mesh screen to wind its way up. The lilies were orange and yellow, unlike the pink ones that Ryan had picked weeks earlier, but the clematis was just like a mini version of the vine in Michael’s garden. Beside it he had place another small pot that was meant to collect water for the flowers themselves. It would not seem like much to anyone else, but to Ryan he felt like he could almost cry again.

“I figured something a little more permanent would be better. Also, everyone should have a little garden to call their own”, Michael smiled and hooked his arm in Ryan’s just in case the man felt the need to cry again.

He didn’t though. He did pull Michael into a tight hug and thanked him repeatedly under his breath. His parents had not visited his sister’s grave in over year and it was so great for someone else to be giving it some care and attention. Michael was muttering little _it’s nothings_ into Ryan’s chest and rubbing his back softly.

Eventually, they pulled away and Michael looked up at Ryan, “Hey, how about after you’re done here, why don’t we go get some lunch?”

Ryan smiled, ignoring the tears pinpricking in the corners of his eyes, “That sounds great, I’d love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> So as much as I love angsty Ryan/Michael I love fluffy Myan like 5x more. And if you like it, or want to share any experiences, leave a comment or kudos, also i like to check out stuff that my readers write and i have no other way of knowing who my readers are :/. anyway have a good day and spread all the love.


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